


What Happens In Vegas

by IdMonster



Category: The Stand - Stephen King
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Bondage, Bruises, M/M, Psychic Rape, Rapist praising victim, Rapist takes advantage of victim's loyalty, Sex to Prove Loyalty, Victim thinks they can't say no, Victim would have consented if asked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdMonster/pseuds/IdMonster
Summary: On the road to Vegas, a dark man comes a-knocking at Lloyd's door.





	What Happens In Vegas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadmean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadmean/gifts).



Lloyd sat across from the dark man in an empty diner. Nothing remained of his dinner but a single bite of apple pie. Flagg had warned him to take his meal slow or he’d lose it, and Lloyd had obeyed, letting a count of ten pass between every bite. 

He looked out the window as he made his last count. The sun had set, but in the waning crimson light he could still make out the Buick parked at the side of the narrow road, a row of storefronts, and a few bloated corpses on the sidewalk. A crow flapped down to land on the chest of a dead man sprawled halfway off a porch, and cocked its head at them before lowering it to take a bite.

_Ten._

Lloyd picked up his fork, chewed slowly, and swallowed. His belly was full and there was a lingering sweet taste in his mouth. He couldn’t remember ever being happier. 

“Want me to drive the next stretch?” he asked. 

“No, let’s rest for a _spell.”_ Flagg giggled. 

Lloyd didn’t get the joke, but he smiled anyway. Anything Flagg wanted was fine by him. Besides, he hadn’t gotten much sleep, those endless day-nights alone in the cell ( _alone except for the rat, and the roach, oh and let’s not forget Trask-the-snack_ ), and a night in a real bed, with a bottle of clean water and a pile of snacks within reach if he woke up in the night, sounded good to him. 

“This podunk town doesn’t have much to offer in way of accomodations,” Flagg went on. “Not compared to what’s coming up! Just wait till we get to Vegas, Lloyd. King-sized beds with satin sheets and great big mirrors in the ceiling. But for now, Debra’s Homey Bed and Breakfast will do. Debra’s snug as a bug in a rug in her own bedroom, so we won’t disturb her.” He giggled again, an unsettlingly high-pitched sound.

“Sure.” Lloyd didn’t ask how Flagg knew, any more than he’d asked how Flagg knew to pull off the freeway and park right in front of a spotless diner with no corpses inside, a huge walk-in freezer still ice-cold and filled with steaks, and a generator they could use to turn on the stove. He just… _knew_. 

Lloyd’s hand closed over the black stone with the crimson flaw. Flagg had taken it from him before they’d gotten in the car and closed his fingers over it. When he’d opened them, it was threaded on a chain. It hung around Lloyd’s neck now, heavy for its size and strangely cold. His key. 

They walked to Debra’s Homey Bed and Breakfast, which was only three doors down. Flagg swung his flashlight to point out Debra’s room, which Lloyd would have avoided anyway because of the faint odor of decay seeping out from under the closed door, and then escorted Lloyd to a room upstairs. 

“The honeymoon suite,” Flagg said. “Nice soft bed big enough for two, just what you deserve after that narrow, _ratty_ jailhouse mattress. Sleep tight!”

Lloyd was about to say that Flagg should have it, if it was the best room, but he was already out the door before Lloyd could reply, the clack of cowboy boots on polished wood fading into the distance. Lloyd supposed a hotel could have more than one honeymoon suite. Flagg would presumably take one of the others. 

He undressed, set up the water and snacks he’d grabbed from a gas station on a nightstand, touched them just to assure himself that they were really there, and then crawled into the big bed. Tired as he was, it was hard to fall asleep. The mattress and pillows were too soft, like quicksand. He kept feeling like he was suffocating. Finally he folded a pillow in half to make it a bit firmer, and sank into an uneasy sleep. 

 

Lloyd woke with a start. At first he didn’t know where he was or why he’d woken up. Then he remembered Flagg, the key, and the apple pie. It was pitch black outside the windows, but a candle was on the nightstand, the dancing yellow light reflecting oddly off the bottled water, and Flagg was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Lloyd pushed himself up. The blankets fell away, leaving him bare-chested in the chilly room; he’d gone to sleep naked except for the black stone on its chain. Flagg was fully dressed, all the way down to his worn cowboy boots.

“What’s going on?” Lloyd asked. 

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes. And when I do, sometimes I get to thinking.” He smiled and spread his arms wide. “About shoes and ships and squealing rats, and whether Lloyds have strings. Do you?” 

“Strings?” Lloyd repeated blankly.

“To pull.” Flagg mimed a puppeteer making a marionette dance. His fingers were double-jointed, and it seemed like some of them had one joint too many. “You’re a loyal man, I know. That’s why I chose you. But I was wondering just how far your loyalty might… stretch, shall we say.”

“You want me to kill someone for you?” Lloyd was relieved to be back in territory he understood. He snapped his fingers. “They’re dead.”

“We’ll need to find some living people before I can have you kill them for me,” Flagg pointed out. “But that’s not what I meant. I trust you to pokerize at my command. I’m thinking of a more _personal_ loyalty. Things you can do for my person, if you know what I mean.”

Lloyd had no idea what Flagg meant. He felt stupid and heavy with sleep. Taking a wild guess, he said, “You want me to be your bodyguard? You want to know if I’d take a bullet for you?”

“I want to know if you’d take something else for me.” Flagg tittered, the high sound echoing weirdly around the room. In the candlelight, his eyes seemed to sparkle red. He bounced up, full of energy, and stood at the foot of the bed. “Ever play Simon Says?”

Lloyd nodded. The conversation worried him. Flagg knew Lloyd wasn’t bright, he’d said so himself, so it was probably all right with him that Lloyd didn’t follow everything he said. But he’d also said that Lloyd was loyal, and that was why he’d taken him. Now he seemed to be doubting that. If Lloyd couldn’t prove his loyalty, would Flagg decide he didn’t want him any more?

“You remember the rules?” Flagg inquired.

“Yeah.” Lloyd didn’t add that he’d never been much good at remembering not to jump up and down or whatever dumbfuck kiddie order he’d been given if it didn’t start with “Simon Says.” He’d liked dodgeball better. He’d been good at knocking people down.

“What do you do when _you_ can’t sleep?” Flagg inquired suddenly. “Be honest. It’s just us men here.”

Lloyd shrugged. “I jerk off.”

“Of course you do. But a hand is never as good as a mouth, is it?” Flagg unzipped his jeans. “Simon says suck my cock.”

Lloyd’s gaze jerked up to Flagg’s face, then quickly lowered. Flagg was smiling, but not like he was joking. Like he was playing a game, but a game that had real stakes. Then Lloyd realized what was going on. This was his test of loyalty, to see just how far Lloyd would go for him.

For the first time since he’d woken up, Lloyd relaxed. He could pass this test, easy. He’d never done it before, but he knew guys sometimes helped each other jerk off, or got drunk and sucked each other off. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t hurt, and if it was what Flagg wanted…

Lloyd started to swing his legs off the edge of the bed, but Flagg wagged his finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah. The shortest route is a straight line. Take the expressway, Lloyd. Crawl.”

 _That_ made him hesitate. But of course, a test was no good if it was too easy. Lloyd thought about it, then decided that he could eat a little embarassment for the man who’d saved his life. 

Anyway, it wasn’t like guys never did that sort of thing. Lloyd had never been within sneezing distance of a college, let alone a fraternity, but he was intimately familiar with the concept of hazing. Lots of men had probably crawled around naked because it was part of the ritual of joining a gang. Probably crawled naked up to the gang leader and sucked his cock, too. Once he thought of it that way, he felt a lot better about the whole thing. It was a challenge, but once he passed he’d be a part of something special. A chosen man.

Pushing away the blankets, Lloyd got on all fours. Once he was in position, making himself move forward was harder than he’d imagined. Especially with Flagg’s glittering gaze locked on him. But he made himself crawl across the bed, uncomfortably aware of his balls and dick swinging. By the time he got to Flagg, he was burning hot with humiliation, his skin flushed pink. _All_ of his skin. And Flagg could see it all.

“Oh, good boy,” Flagg crooned. “So obedient.”

The praise made Lloyd flush even more. His throat felt thick and swollen, and his voice come out hoarse when he said, “I never done this before. So you just tell me if I do anything you don’t like, and I’ll do it better.” 

“So willing. So eager.” But there was a strange note in the dark man’s voice. Disappointed, almost. Hadn’t Lloyd done what he’d asked? But as Lloyd opened his mouth wide, Flagg took a step back. “I didn’t say Simon says, Lloyd.”

“You didn’t?” Lloyd could have sworn he had. But then, his memory was never very good.

“No. So you don’t have to suck my cock.” Flagg rubbed his finger over his chin. “Let’s see… Simon says, let me fuck you in the ass.”

Lloyd had felt a weird blend of relief and disappointment when Flagg had said he didn’t have to go down on him, but he had no mixed feelings about the new order. Being fucked up the ass by a man made you his bitch. Besides, he’d heard that it hurt. It might even make you bleed. 

_A test is no good if it isn’t hard_ , Lloyd reminded himself. Anyway, what kind of pussy was he if he couldn’t take a little pain and blood?

“Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

But Flagg didn’t look like a man about to get what he wanted. His voice cold, he said, “I didn’t say Simon says.”

“But—” Lloyd started to protest. 

“Would you let me tie you up?” Flagg interrupted.

 _Finally_ , Lloyd got it. Proud of himself, he said, “You didn’t say Simon says.”

Flagg’s lips curved into a smile that made you think about how many teeth were crammed into the human mouth. “I don’t need to.”

He snapped his fingers. Something like an immense, invisible hand shoved Lloyd face-down into the the soft quicksand of the bed. His arms were brutally yanked over his head, nearly dislocating his shoulders, and cold metal closed over his wrists and ankles.

Lloyd flinched as he heard the unmistakable click of handcuffs snapping shut. “What’re you doing? Where’d those come from?” 

He turned his head, straining his neck with the effort. The marshmallow-soft pillow (Where had _that_ come from? He’d been facing the foot of the bed, not the head) billowed up around his face, making it hard to see. Lloyd could just barely make out the silvery streaks of chains. He’d somehow been manacled to the four posts of the bed.

“There’s a lot of theories on the appeal of bondage,” Flagg said conversationally. “For some people, the nature of the restraints is the key. They just can’t get off unless they can tie or be tied with rough rope or silk scarves or piano wire. But mostly, it’s about power. There you are, unable to run or fight. All mine.”

“I wasn’t going to run or fight anyway,” Lloyd protested. “I—”

Flagg deftly crammed the corner of the pillow into Lloyd’s mouth, cutting him off. Pleasantly, he went on, “I can fuck you all I want, whenever I want. I can go away and do my daily business, and when I come back, you’ll still be there, exactly as I left you. My little mint on the pillow. And if I get bored with you, I don’t have to do a thing to dispose of you. All I have to do is shut the door and drive away. No mess, no fuss, no bother. You’ll join Debra downstairs in the dead-in-a-bed club.”

A sickening horror grew in Lloyd at Flagg’s words. He wouldn’t really do that… would he? But if he wouldn’t, why was he talking about it? 

Panicking, Lloyd struggled, thrashing against the restraints. He could feel the skin of his ankles and wrists abrading until he bled, feel the pain as he bruised himself down to the bone, but he didn’t care about that. But the harder he fought, the deeper he sank into the bed and the more the pillow was forced into his mouth. He finally lay still, shuddering uncontrollably, caught between the fear of being left alone in the room until he starved and the fear of suffocating then and there.

Lloyd heard a clink as Flagg unbuckled his belt, then a few whistled notes, the instantly recognizable guitar intro of “Baby, Can You Dig Your Man?” Hard hands came down on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart. Then a hard rod forced its way inside, burning, stretching, maybe tearing. The pain was intense, but it was lost in a greater fear. _Please please no, please don’t, don’t leave me, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me alone to starve…_

He had no idea how long it lasted. But he knew when Flagg was done, because pulling out hurt so much. But far worse than the pain was the strange enveloping chill, like he’d been locked inside a walk-in freezer. And far worse than the chill was the terror that now Flagg would get up, walk out, close the door, and leave him behind forever.

Flagg pulled the pillow out of his mouth. Lloyd blinked up at him. He was still chained, but now he was lying on his back. How had that happened?

“I needed that,” Flagg said contentedly, stretching. Lloyd heard his spine make a small pop. Then, frowning, he peered down at Lloyd. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“You said…” Burning tears stung Lloyd’s eyes, but he couldn’t lift a hand to swipe them away. “You said you’d leave me to starve!”

“What?” Flagg looked sincerely shocked, then equally sincerely upset. “Oh, hey, no, Lloyd. I was just kidding you. Did you think I meant it?”

Lloyd nodded, his head spinning with leftover fear and uncertain relief. Flagg reached out, making Lloyd flinch, but he only wiped away his tears with something Lloyd could only perceive as tenderness. 

“I should never tease you about that,” Flagg said. “I never will, again. It’s a sensitive subject, isn’t it?”

Lloyd sniffed hard, swallowed, and said, “Yeah.”

“It was mean of me. And after you’ve been so good, too. So obedient. So loyal. I couldn’t ask for a better right-hand man.” As he spoke, Flagg stroked Lloyd’s hair, pressing down with his fingers to massage his scalp, too. It felt good. Soothing. The chill and pain faded. “You deserve a reward for putting up with me. Would you like me to suck you off?”

“Would _you_ like that?” Lloyd asked doubtfully. 

Flagg nodded, his lips closed but his eyes sparkling with glee.

“Then I would too,” Lloyd said, relieved. By then he had no idea if he really did want it or if he just wanted to please Flagg, or if there was any difference. But at least now he could relax. The test was over.

Flagg’s grin widened and widened, his eyes glowing in the candlelight, until his lips cracked and his jaws gaped open. 

Lloyd screamed. His whole body writhed as he tried to crawl backward into the mattress, into the wall. He could feel a distant pain in his wrists and ankles, and he knew he was bruising and cutting himself even more, but none of it mattered. Inside his head he was a terrified boy gibbering, _No no not that please not that get it away from me get it away._

Flagg lowered his unhinged jaw, bringing that wet red mouth lined with row after row of glittering white needles down to Lloyd’s crotch. 

At the first touch of Flagg’s mouth, Lloyd forced himself to hold absolutely still. He didn’t dare to struggle or even speak. The slightest movement might send that array of razor edges and needle points slicing into his flesh. Flagg too moved carefully, licking and sucking without letting those deadly bone blades do more than just brush against Lloyd’s skin. 

Despite the terror, despite the horror, Lloyd felt himself responding. Every surge of hot blood, every little bit he swelled and jerked, sent a fresh wave of fear over him. But Flagg always, impossibly, managed to pull his teeth that littlest bit back, so they were only a slick hard surface, only the lightest of pricks and sharp edges, always threatening, never actually piercing.

Lloyd couldn’t help crying out in terror as he felt his hips begin to jerk of their own accord. “No, no, please—”

Whimpering in fear, his back arching until it felt like it would snap, Lloyd came helplessly into Flagg’s mouth. 

 

“Rise and shine!”

Lloyd jerked awake at Flagg’s voice, almost screaming. He was sitting upright before he knew it, staring at that huge jolly grin. Those _teeth_. He flinched away.

“Time to hit the road! No shower, alas, but we can’t have everything. Not _yet_.” Solicitously, Flagg inquired, “Did you sleep well?”

“I…” Confused, Lloyd’s words trailed off. The teeth were just regular teeth, not rows of white needles. His dick didn’t hurt. A quick glance down at the sheets showed no blood. 

It had all been a dream. Of course. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him, but then it receded, leaving him shaken. He felt violated, even though all of it had come from _his_ mind. Why would he dream about horrifying shit like that? 

And it had felt so real. He wanted to check himself for injuries, just to reassure himself that it had all been a dream and nothing that could ever happen in real life. But he couldn’t do that in front of that looming, grinning figure.

“Well, _I_ feel fresh, rested, and ready.” Flagg snapped his fingers, making Lloyd jump. “Meet me downstairs in ten.”

Once again, Lloyd listened for the clack of bootheels to fade. Then he threw off the covers and inspected himself. No scrapes. No bruises. No blood. He _had_ come on the sheets, but he could’ve masturbated before he fell asleep, then forgotten about it. Or had a wet dream. 

No, he couldn’t have come from _that_ fucking nightmare. He must have jerked off while he was half-asleep, that was all. Shaking his head and trying not to think about _teeth_ , he wiped himself clean, then dressed and met Flagg downstairs. 

Flagg was in high spirits, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. He brushed off Lloyd’s offer to take the wheel, saying, “Plenty of work in your future. You relax now. Don’t ever let anyone say I don’t take care of my right-hand man.” 

Lloyd stared out the window as they headed toward Vegas. Dead hills the color of dust. Faded billboards proclaiming rest stops and casinos and last gas 96 miles. Cars stopped forever like clocks after a nuclear strike, all conveniently pulled to the shoulder so they didn’t block the way even though the other side of the freeway was jammed so tight you couldn’t stick a finger between the bumpers. Why would everyone try to flee Vegas for Phoenix, but not the other way around? (Lloyd knew the answer: because _he_ liked to drive fast enough to feel the wind in his hair.) 

“Making good time,” Flagg said happily, and snapped his fingers. A few crimson sparks flew.

The billboard advertising “Harry’s All-You-Can-Eat Buffet! Bottomless Mimosas!” with a cartoon of two fat fucks chowing down on dingy pink shrimp was suddenly a neon sign. Though the sun blazed white everywhere else, a patch of darkness seemed to hang over the sign, as if to ensure that it wouldn’t be lost in the glare. 

Flashing letters spelled out “All-You-Can-Eat Lloyd Buffet! Bottoms Up!” Below the words, a tiny jerking figure was being bent over and fucked up the ass by a neon man in cowboy boots, his hips thrusting like a metronome.

 _It_ was _real,_ Lloyd thought in numb horror. He didn’t dare look at the dark man sitting right there by his side. Those _teeth_ , only inches away. _Maybe I should’ve stayed in the cell. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered when the devil called my name_.

Then he remembered the gnawing hunger, the stench, and how his clothes had flapped on his wasted body. The taste of the rotting food he’d saved. And the roach. And the rat. And Trask’s leg. Lloyd wasn’t an imaginative man by nature, but it wasn’t hard for him to imagine eating all of Trask that he could reach, and what he might have resorted to after that, locked up like a rabbit forgotten in a cage. 

Flagg had saved him from that. Flagg had led him out into the sunlight, fed him on steak and apple pie, and given him his very own key. So Flagg had scared him—so what? He hadn’t hurt him, not really. It had just been a test. _All_ of it had been a test. And Lloyd must have passed, because here he was, at Flagg’s right hand. He’d proven his loyalty, and he’d never have to see those fucking _teeth_ again. 

The car drove past the neon sign in a cloud of dust, leaving it behind. Lloyd didn’t look back. 

Confidentally, Flagg said, “Don’t worry. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. If I happen to get bored again some sleepless night, and I happen to come a-knocking at your dreams again, no one will ever know.”

With a nauseating sense of dread and betrayal, Lloyd thought, _Get_ bored? _I thought it was a test._

“And if I ever come a-knocking outside of a dream, and someone happens to see the marks the next morning, they may wonder and they may guess, but they’ll never say a word. This isn’t prison, Lloyd. No one says boo to my right-hand man.” Flagg jerked his right fist obscenely, grinning.

“You don’t have to come into my dreams!” Lloyd burst out. “If you want something from me—if you want _anything_ —all you have to do is ask. If you’d just asked me last night, I would’ve said yes!”

“Oh, Lloyd.” Flagg’s jolly grin grew wider, a gaping cave of bleached white bone and raw red meat. “Where’s the fun in that?”


End file.
